The Blue Shirt and the New Staff
by Lady Epur
Summary: .:FROM GATHERING BLUE:. Kira and Thomas make each other gifts, and Thomas claims to be honest. What happens after?


**When I was reading Gathering Blue, I got so frustrated at the end when I realized hardly ANY romance blossomed between Kira and Thomas. So I'm gonna write a little one-shot for them. I haven't read Gathering Blue in a while, so if my facts are a bit slack, please don't reprimand me for it.**

**I don't own Gathering Blue. That's Lois Lowry's.**

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I Wove and Wove. That's all I could do. That was my job. That was why I had such an extravagant room. My prison. My haven. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I kept on living out there. Back in the Village. With my limp leg and my only skill as a Weaver, I knew I couldn't have survived long. The only reason why they kept me there was because of my mom, and of my father's stature. After she died, I knew the women of the village had an eye on my spot. They were planning to make my spot into a pen to hold their rambunctious children. Every time I passed by my old spot, I saw the children sour faced and mad, angry for being held in that pen. I always quickened my pace around there. The women eyed me. I avoided eye contact. They would have snatched me up and make me make them extravagant clothes had I not been taken in by the Council, had they not have killed me first. And also because I was wearing blue when I went out. At first, people stopped what they were doing and stared at me. Blue on clothing? They had never seen such a thing! They attempted to snatch the shirt right off my back. Had it not been for Thomas. He always glared at the women and kept a steady hand on the small of my back, pushing me a bit.

I remembered my father, Christopher. He had gone back to that village. I told him to. I had to stay here. It was something he'd never understand. No matter how much I wanted him with me, I hardly knew him. I know it wasn't his fault that he couldn't be with me all those years, but he doesn't know me. He doesn't know me the way a father should know their daughter. Looking down at the shirt in my hand, I sighed, and continued. The shirt was blue. I had sewn it myself, a dress shirt fit for a boy. It had buttons that went all the way down the middle. I just hoped it would fit him. I had even sewn a pocket on it for him! Along with a carver's knife on the left side of the shirt, near the bottom. It was in gold thread. Right now I was in the middle of sewing a design on the pocket. A little trademark emblem I put on things I had made. It resembled somewhat of a needle, and then a little curly "K" under it. I smiled at my work. It had taken me a week to do. I had totally been blowing off the robe, waiting to put on the sacred blue back in its proper spot. I felt I needed to dye it on a special day. The first day of Winter, perhaps.

There was a knock at the door. I smiled. "Come in," I said, taking the shirt and folding it, putting it on the bed.

Thomas came in, smiling. He held two trays, as well as a thick stick packaged in brown paper. It was probably the Singer's Staff. He was probably lonely and came in her for a change of pace. Not that I minded. Thomas and I could work on different things and have a lively conversation all at the same time.

"My, what a load you're carrying," I commented, standing up and limping over to him, and grabbing a tray. He smiled, and I sat back down. I contemplated giving him his shirt today. I was done with it, and I wanted to see if it fit. Usually, I could make an item of clothing for someone and not even take measurements, and it would fit them. But I was still anxious.

He sat down across from me, clearing off needles and balls of died thread to one side of my work table. Today, they were giving us some chicken soup. With bread and milk. Nice touch. But we still hate them.

We ate quietly for a few moments. "Came to work in here, Thomas?" I asked, eyeing the brown paper covered stick.

He cleared his throat. "Um, no actually." He circled around the table and retrieved the stick.

He handed it to me. "It's one of those gifts you were telling me about."

I smiled at him. "But you've already given me one!" I said, running my hand along the brown paper.

"I know, but I've had a bit of free time lately, and I thought I could make you a new one."

I untied the strings, and the brown paper fell to the ground. It was a new walking stick. I felt like jumping up and hug him. This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me! The carvings weren't as intricate as the Singer's Staff. But they were much more beautiful. Up the sides were vines of roses and goldenrod. And on the top, there was an intricate carving of a needle, with a single thread spiraling from the hole and around in squiggles and swirls. And the cane was made of mahogany, stained to a dark, rich color.

I looked up at Thomas. "It's... This is beautiful, Thomas." I gasped.

He beamed, showing a row of perfect white teeth. He was used to hearing compliments for his work, so I didn't think saying such a comment would have made him so happy.

I ran my hand across the wood. There's NO way I was going to get a splinter from this masterpiece. I was almost afraid to use it, it was so beautiful.

"I've got something for you, too," I said to Thomas, getting up gingerly and carefully using my walking stick to get to my bed. I came back with the shirt in my hand.

He looked at it and smiled at me. "Blue? Oh Kira, you shouldn't have wasted that plant on me!"

"Nonsense. There's plenty of the plant left to repair the Singer's Robe." I handed him the shirt. "Um, I don't know if it fits you, so I was hoping you could try it on?"

Thomas took the shirt gingerly and nodded. He began to lift up his own. "Oh Thomas! Not now! I didn't mean now!"

He flustered, and I turned away. "You might as well put it on though," I said. When did he grow up? I had no clue what was under his shirt until now, and he obviously has been playing sorts or something. I blushed, realizing what I was thinking.

"Um, Kira? You can turn around now."

I turned around. The shirt fit him perfectly. I haven't lost my touch. "Do you um, like it?" I asked.

He smiled, nodding. "Of course I do, Kira. I can't believe you spent time making me a blue shirt. It makes me feel special."

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, looking at him. "You're my best friend, after all."

"You've gotten a Thomas original. What do you plan to do?" said Thomas, grinning.

"I'm going to show it off!" I said, laughing. "And _you've_ got a Kira original. What are _you_ going to do?"

"I'm going to walk the Red Carpet and tell everyone what a marvelous Weaver you are!" said Thomas.

I blushed. "Thanks."

"That was no complement. I speak the truth. Only the truth, and nothing but." he walked over to me.

"You speak the truth then?" I asked, grinning an evil smile. "Then who do you think is the prettiest girl in this building?"

I had seen him eyeing one of the maids who cleared away the dishes and what not.

Thomas blushed. "You," he mumbled.

I almost fell backward. Was he joking? That's an AWFUL thing to joke about! "W-what?"

Thomas drew himself to his full height. "You are the most beautiful girl I have laid eyes on," he said finally.

"That's not a funny thing to joke about, Thomas!" I said, grabbing my cane and limping over to him, pushing the cane a little too hard into the floor than I meant to.

Thomas turned to me. Fine. Make me do all the walking. It's not like I have a twisted leg or anything. "I wasn't joking," he said softly, staring at me.

I tripped. It's not like I meant to, but my good leg gave out and the cane was only a cane, after all. It could keep me upright... if one of my legs worked, that is.

Thomas dove forward and caught me before I hit the floor. I ended up on top of him, and he was lying on his back, under me.

"You aren't?" I asked, not daring to believe it.

Instead of responding, he brought his lips to mine. I was taken by surprise. No one had ever done that to me.

The stick dug into my chest, and I made a little groan, sitting up. I laid the stick gently on the floor beside me. He sat up, too.

"I'm so sorry, Kira," said Thomas, getting up and setting me upright.

I didn't say anything. I had a feeling he didn't really want me to talk.

"But I _had_ to know what that felt like. Don't think I'm using you. I would never dream of it, but I've... oh Gods help me, I've fallen in love with you, Kira. I tried not to, but I could not help myself. You were just so nice, but you were so haunted. Me and you were one and the same. The more time I spent with you, the more I fell deeper in love with you."

He ran a hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. "Please don't think of me as a forward prude, please. I just... I just lost control. I swear, it won't happen again. But... don't end this friendship. I don't think I could bear it. It's been so lonely... And then you came along. I've never really had any friends at all. I've been living here for as long as I can remember..."

I sighed. I think he's talked quite enough. "Thomas," I said softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with guilt. "Just shut-up and kiss me, will you?"

He beamed, grabbed my waist and pulled me towards him, kissing the living daylights out of me. I smiled into the kiss, sighing and falling into his arms.

Finally.

Outside, two maids, Marina and Melissa, came to the door and opened it a crack. They were supposed to collect lunch dishes.

Marina looked to Melissa and grinned. "You owe me twenty bucks."

Melissa sighed and rolled her eyes, slapping the bill into her friend's hand. They decided to come back later to collect the dishes.

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**Woohoo. That was FUN to write! Okay, here's your part, time to review. But please don't tell me about all the facts and such. I know that Thomas and Kira wouldn't know what a red carpet was, and they probably didn't use American currency for money... Okay, I'm done! REVIEW!**

**Lady Epur out**


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